


Regrets

by mankindness



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: M/M, Slash, Smut, strip clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 01:20:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1709786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mankindness/pseuds/mankindness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I wanna make sure that if you're gonna feel guilty about something, then it's gotta be worth feeling guilty over."<br/>Michael and Trevor hang out and end up going to a strip club. Trevor feels a little tinge of jealously when Michael starts taking an interest in the ladies, so he gives him another option. It's an easy choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regrets

It had been another boring, uneventful day for Michael, on the cusp of being wasted. It seemed that the number of those types of days was on the increase despite his efforts to make a change. Work at the studio with Solomon had been little, yet Michael still hung around there for something to do or to just appear busy.

Attempts to bond with his family also proved to be pointless. They each had their own lives and Michael couldn't help but feel sidelined. He tried his best to persuade himself that they didn't need him solely for financial support and that Amanda still loved him, but the growing distance between them, except when it came to needing money, and all of the love affairs, just swayed Michael's thoughts the other way. He realised he couldn't really judge Amanda on her disloyalty, seeing as he wasn't the most faithful person on the planet, although in his subconscious he remained partly resentful.

Either way, Michael didn't want to simply pass through one more easily forgettable day. Whether it was his mid-life crisis kicking in or his natural yearning to just live a little, he wanted to break out of the dull routine he'd resigned himself to. He unlocked his phone and dialled Franklin's number. Franklin barely answered in time before the phone cut to voicemail.

"Hey, Frank. You busy? Wanna do something?" Michael asked.

"Ah, shit..." Michael knew then it'd be a no. "I can't right now, man, I'm sorry. I've got some business that needs taking care of. Uh..." There was a short pause as both of them searched for something to say. "You tried Trevor? He might be free," Franklin suggested.

"No... I'll give him a call, then. Some other time, yeah?"

"Yeah, definitely, M. Later."

Franklin was a good kid. At least he sounded genuine.

Once he had hung up, Michael thought for a moment. He hadn't been out with Trevor for a while, so it could be fun. A few seconds later he was waiting for an answer again, only this time the person on the other end picked up much quicker.

"Michael!"

"Hey, Trevor- wanna hang out?"

" _Absolutely_ , Mikey. You at your place? I'll come pick you up soon,"

Honestly, Michael would much rather go in his car than Trevor's truck- but at least he'd be able to drink as much as he liked if Trevor drove. So he volunteered Trevor to be the night's designated driver.

"Sounds good. I'll be waiting outside,"

Just as Michael was standing in the foyer getting himself ready to leave, Amanda walked in with her arms laden with shopping bags.

"Hi, Michael," She smiled sweetly. Michael immediately felt guilty, seeing as he was on his way to see Trevor, who Amanda hated and had made explicitly clear that he was to have nothing to do with their family. Michael had thought he'd be accustomed to feeling bad like he was, especially when lying about where he was going and who with to Amanda, but that was apparently not so. "Going somewhere?" She asked, though not in a confrontational manner.

"Yeah," Michael said, clearing his throat. "Studio meeting, I got a call a few minutes ago. I'm gonna catch a cab in case we start drinking a little," He attempted to convince himself that it was a white lie, to save Amanda's feelings. Though how that would be, he wasn't sure.

Michael momentarily feared that somehow Trevor was already outside and Amanda was trying to catch him out on his dishonesty.

"Okay, honey. I'll see you later. Don't go too crazy!" Amanda replied, and Michael nearly sighed in relief.

"Of course not. So long, babe." Michael said, giving her a kiss as he passed. He wondered how many times he could use that excuse again before she caught on that something wasn't right.

Michael left the house and walked across the driveway, then onto the street, all the while looking at his phone. Eyes still glued to the device, Michael felt around his pockets for a cigarette, finding one and tucking it between his lips. He didn't look up or around, not expecting Trevor to have arrived so soon.

That was until he heard a very deliberate cough near him. He turned his head and saw Trevor leaning against his parked Bohdi, arms folded and legs crossed at the ankles.

"I thought I told you to quit that shit, sugar tits," Trevor greeted, looking at the cigarette.

"Shit, T," Michael replied, walking over and putting the cigarette back in the pocket where he'd found it. "You got here quick. Did Amanda see you?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Why? Are you ashamed of me, baby?" Trevor mocked.

"No, Trevor..." Michael rolled his eyes. "I'm just making sure, y'know. I wasn't entirely truthful to her about where I'm going, and she ain't exactly supportive of you,"

"Oooh, that can't be good for the relationship," Trevor said, moving away and getting into the truck. Michael ignored him and climbed into the passenger seat. "Anyway..." Trevor closed the truck door. "If she had seen me, I'm guessing you would'a just heard _all_ about it from her,"

"Yeah, probably,"

"I don't see why she's so against me," Trevor started, sounding serious. "She should _thank_ me. I get you out and about, some fresh air in your lungs,"

"I'm not a fucking dog, T," Michael retorted.

Trevor laughed and considered making a joke about Michael liking it doggy style back in the day, although decided to hold his tongue so to not make things awkward for poor repressed Michael. He wondered if the man would ever address their secret past. Trevor knew Michael remembered, of course he did. No matter how much whiskey he downed, he couldn't push out what Trevor assumed- quite rightly so- to be the happiest years of Michael's, and his, life. He wasn't gonna let that time be ignored. So even if Michael didn't intend on bringing it up, Trevor certainly fucking did.

"Where to?" Trevor asked.

"Anywhere we can have drinks. A lot of drinks."

"Sure thing, cupcake." Trevor pulled the truck back onto the road, driving away from Michael's house.

~

They'd been at the bar for a few hours when Michael accepted his 'meeting at the studio' lie had probably been caught out. In a way to make Dr. Friedlander proud, he turned that negative into a positive and used it as a reason to keep on drinking.

He and Trevor drank and reminisced, and in general it felt like old times. His old buddy and the alcohol helped Michael forget his worries for a little while, that he might be in the shit with his wife when he got home.

Although he didn't really know _why_ he felt so guilty, since all he was doing was hanging out with a friend. Unlike most of the stuff he did, it wasn't illegal.

As they thought and talked about what they did back in the day, the heists they pulled off as younger men, it made Michael feel good. It made him want to do it again. In fact, it made him see Trevor in _that_ way again. Perhaps it was the drunken haze, but Michael nevertheless found himself being dragged back to the past, and he was allowing himself to stay there.

There was also how Michael had noticed the way Trevor was looking at him. Seemingly familiar, almost lustful. It was a look that frequently used to precede them fucking. But it couldn't have been that look; Michael put it down to his inebriated thoughts or the drink getting Trevor horny, meaning he'd try it on with anything with- or shit, probably even without- a pulse. Even though he hadn't had that much to drink... fuck.

Michael took another large gulp. It hadn't previously occurred to him how many of the little details he recalled. He tried not to think about he and Trevor much, it felt wrong, mostly because of his family- who'd be mortified if they knew a fraction of the shit they used to get up to.

However, if he went along with his thoughts, it proved to him that it was all still there, tucked away in some dark corner of his brain. He had been, whether he realised or not, holding onto those memories for those years.

The little needy groans Trevor let out between breaths, right in Michael's ear. How his hands, presumably significantly rougher after years of labouring, felt on his body. The attention Trevor gave him- Michael craved that level of focus again. From Trevor, though? He wasn't fucking sure. This was why Michael preferred to not think in depth about his history; it complicated situations and got him really fucking confused.

"Let's get outta this place," Trevor proposed. Michael's eyes widened and his throat went dry.

_Oh my god. He's gonna try to fuck me._

"Strip club!" Trevor announced loudly, and Michael let out his bated breath.

_Jesus. Calm it down, Townley._

~

The pair arrived at Vanilla Unicorn/Trevor's second home, and Michael followed behind Trevor, his walk more of a drunk stagger. The door man gave them a nod as they went in, accompanied by the burly man saying 'have fun' in a way that made Michael's skin crawl. In the air was a strong stench of beer, and he wasn't entirely proud that he blended right in. As they continued into the club, a voice caught Trevor's attention.

"Oh, hey there, Trevor!" He spun around to see Wade in a private booth, a woman at each arm.

"Hi, Wade," He said. Michael also nodded at him to be polite, and when he looked back Trevor was leaning against the rail, watching the show.

"C'mon, Mikey!" He called. "Don't be shy!" Michael joined him, resting on the metal bar on his forearms. Trevor glanced over at him, amused. Even though Michael was drunk and more relaxed, he could still sense that underlying tension he had from being in a skin joint- at least that's what Trevor presumed. Funny for a guy married to an ex-stripper. It seemed like as he got older, his guilty conscience was becoming an increasingly bigger part of him.

Trevor returned his focus to the dancer in front of him, throwing several dollar bills in her direction, hoping Michael would follow suit and loosen up a little. Soon, he became so fixated with the scantily clad woman, and so determined to influence Michael to relax, that he didn't even notice that he wasn't there anymore. He backed away from the rail, scanning the club for his friend. When he didn't see him sat around the stage, nor at the bar, he went to Wade.

"Wade. Did you see Michael go past?"

"I'm not sure, Trevor... I seen a lot of people go past here,"

Trevor grunted irritably, bursting into the private dance lounge. He found what he was looking for. And oh _man_ , did he look relaxed.

The guard didn't dare say a thing to Trevor as he watched Michael, two topless strippers dancing before him. He didn't know what to feel; he was conflicted. On one hand, it was hot, really hot, because of the women and their dancing- but mostly for the look on Michael's face. However, on the other hand, Trevor was unusually jealous. He wanted to be the one who that look was for, like it was years ago.

He tried to push out the jealousy, thinking that Michael could fuck off and have as many lap dances and hookers as he liked. Why not? Most of his personality was already complied of guilt from regrettable sexual encounters.

But he couldn't shake the desire to be on the receiving end of those eyes, pupils blown. He stood by and waited for the dance to end.

"Want another dance, sugar?" One of the dancers purred, hands on her hips, which swayed seductively. An answer was just about to come from Michael when Trevor butted in.

"Uh, no, he can't," He said, stepping closer. Michael frowned at him, confused. "Mikey, we gotta talk about something. _Work related_ ,"

Michael thought momentarily, appearing hesitant.

"Jeez," He muttered under his breath, pushing himself up on his knuckles. Trevor began walking but then had to stop to wait for Michael to drunkenly follow him. He guided his intoxicated friend past the strippers' changing area then the stage entrance, before getting to the back room. Michael sat down on the sofa heavily. "What're you doing, Trev?" He asked, words slurring slightly. "I was getting close to something there,"

Trevor scoffed. "Yeah, more ever lasting shame,"

Michael rubbed his forehead with his hand, leaning on the arm of the sofa. "Why do you care, huh?"

"Because that's what I do, my friend. I care. Also..." He paused long enough so Michael would meet his eyes. "I wanna make sure that if you're gonna feel guilty about something, then it's gotta be worth feeling guilty over."

All of a sudden, Michael looked a lot more sober. "The hell you talking about?"

"Oh, come on, Mikey. They don't know you. Not like I do; no one does," Trevor sunk to his knees and parted Michael's legs so he could settle between them with his stomach pressed against the couch. His hands were first at Michael's kneecaps, before sliding his palms flat, fingers splayed, up to mid-thigh, before bringing them back down his legs again.

Michael moved where he was sitting, though not away from Trevor, it was obvious he was getting into a better position.

"I remember, M," Trevor told him. " _Oh T, let me come all over your face_ ," He mimicked. " _Trevor, oh please lick my asshole_ ," Michael's face blushed, and he appeared embarrassed.

"I was young, Trevor," He tried to justify. "Y'know, experimenting..."

"Call it whatever you want, cupcake, but you still begged me to do it every other night,"

Michael tipped his head back, breathing out a "fuck".

"How about those times where you jerked off while I told you exactly how to do it?" He grabbed the back of Michael's calves and pulled him closer, nuzzling his face into Michael's crotch. "Mmm, I _loved_ that."

Michael was transfixed. He already had a semi, and wasn't even ashamed. Yet.

"You've been torturing me, M," Trevor said, voice sending vibrations up Michael's cock. "Walkin' around in your fucking tight pants, wiggling your ass about. Making me crazy,"

"You don't need much help with that, though," Michael slurred. He couldn't resist. That was when Trevor got up off of his knees, and a panic that he wasn't going to continue hit him. Words along the line of "what are you doing" had all but left his mouth when Trevor pushed him down to lie on the sofa, which he had joined him on, once again settling between the man's legs, knees drawn up.

Watching while Trevor deliberately slowly started on his suit pants, Michael felt a nervousness in the pit of his stomach in anticipation of what the night would hold for him. It was all too familiar ground, yet had been untrodden on for close to ten years.

His pants had become loose, and Trevor's fingers were hooked around the waistband. He quickly and forcefully pulled them off, neither of them taking any notice when they heard fabric ripping.

"Oh, fuck yeah," Trevor groaned when his eyes met Michael's goddamn perfect cock- just as he remembered.

Michael was still silent, words failing him until a tongue was dragging upwards on his dick.

"Shit," He wheezed. His body tensed in an attempt to not thrust his hips up.

"Relax, Mikey. You're in safe hands," Michael wondered vaguely about the truth in that statement, before Trevor took him in his mouth, edging further down, causing Michael to choke on his breath and be unable to tear his eyes away.

Sucking and grunting feverishly, Trevor got to the hilt- did the man not have a fucking gag reflex?

Michael didn't know what to do with himself; his legs were restless and he kept shifting, and with shaking fingers he clung onto the sofa, palms sweaty. The wet noises being made by Trevor around his dick were making him feel light-headed, one leg coming up to rest against the back cushions with his foot along the top of the couch.

Trevor saw this as an invitation and dropped his head, running the flat of his tongue along Michael's hole. He gasped at the unexpected sensation, looking down at his smug friend, wide-eyed.

Then he was getting closer, shimmying up until he was more or less lying on top of Michael. Two of Trevor's fingers were at his lips, encouraging them to part. He slid them into Michael's mouth, murmuring.

"Mmm, get 'em soaked..."

Earnestly, Michael ran his tongue along the fingers while Trevor watched intently, his face painted with lust. Once he was satisfied with what Michael had done, he descended for a second time to resume his previous position.

Only this time Michael felt wet fingertips at his asshole, pushing in steadily, opening him up.

"Oh, you're so tight, Mikey. Anyone would'a thought you were a virgin," His following facial expression said "but we know you're not".

Trevor was merciless while finger fucking him; hence Michael's desperate sounds. When his cock became engulfed by Trevor's mouth he cried out and weakly tried to suppress the volume, but his efforts weren't entirely successful. The double stimulation overwhelmed him and his hands scrabbled around the cushions, searching for a grip- he found this on the back of Trevor's head and made guidance on his actions, though not to be controlling.

The pair were in their own bubble, their own world, any thought regarding other matters put down as insignificant. Neither had a care in the world; simply bliss spread throughout them.

Trevor matched each strong suck with a hard thrust of his fingers, also accompanied with a low hum.

"Trevor- holy fuck- deeper!"

"Which fucking one?!" Trevor tried to yell, muffled around Michael's cock.

"Oh, god... both,"

Trevor granted his request, swallowing Michael down and pressing his fingers in as deep as they would go. He was giving all that he could, and Michael was getting every last bit of it; yet greedily he wanted more, for it to never end.

Regardless, the end was approaching rapidly enough for Michael be unable to prolong it. His entire body tingled while he fucked into Trevor's mouth. All it took was that desirous look look again from the man pleasuring him and Michael was coming in thick streaks, moaning loudly. Trevor pulled off of him just in time for a line of come to stripe across his lips. He licked them clean then pushed himself away from Michael, who was feeling spent and sluggish.

Trevor didn't expect any kind of reciprocation, just for Michael to fall asleep in an instant and for a long while. That way he'd finish himself off then either join his friend in slumber or get on with other things.

So it was a surprise when Michael sat up, looking slightly absurd; his top half was fully dressed in a silk shirt and suit jacket, while from the waist down he was nude, limp cock resting on his hip.

This time Trevor was being pushed onto the arm of the couch, with Michael looming over him.

"Oh, M," Trevor muttered, a smile in his voice.

"Gotta say thanks, don't I?" Michael replied, hand delving into Trevor's jeans, bringing out his rock hard dick to jerk him off.

Michael had always been good at this, only it seemed a lot better, what with how long it had been. Trevor wasn't gonna need much. It was as if he'd been on the edge for the whole duration of the night.

From where he was watching what was being done to him, Trevor could see from the corner of his eye that Michael's head was very close to his own. When he turned to whisper something explicit to Michael, their lips were crashing frenziedly.

_This is new_ , Trevor thought. Not at all unwelcome, mostly unexpected. Michael wasn't the best kisser, but it wasn't about skill. It was less of a kiss, more of a tempestuous show of passion, of need. A turbulent exchange of wet lips and tongues.

Both fought for dominance, and eventually Trevor ruled, threading his fingers into Michael's hair. His free hand snaked under the man's shirt, nails scratching his back.

Following an intentionally lingered moment, Trevor broke the kiss, his breathing coming in irregular.

"Faster, Mikey," He said, and Michael provided. A continuous flow of curses and approval left Trevor's mouth to spur Michael on. A couple more tugs finished it, and Trevor climaxed hard, grunting through his teeth.

Seemingly seconds after Trevor came down from the high, Michael collapsed on top of him, succumbing to sleep. Trevor couldn't really move under Michael's weight, though didn't particularly want to- so he closed his eyes and let himself rest.

Michael's headache awoke him, pain pounding through his brain. He heaved himself up on his arms and blinked a few times to clear the sleep from his eyes.

Shit.

The previous night came flooding back to him like a tsunami. The first thing that hit him wasn't guilt, funnily enough, but a kind of oddness. He hadn't expected the two of them to return to this part of their past, especially at such ease- they'd picked up right where they left off.

Michael got to his feet and put on his slightly torn pants. Thankfully, Trevor remained sleeping. He wouldn't have known what to say otherwise, he was still searching his mind over what to say to Amanda. He could think of nothing believable and even considered just staying, however not going home soon would only exacerbate the situation.

Checking his phone, there were no missed calls or messages from his wife, so he reassured himself that maybe everything was okay.

He passed one more glance at the undisturbed Trevor before leaving. Within a few minutes he was in the back of a cab, en route to Rockford Hills. He was halfway home when his phone vibrated to indicate a text.

"I didn't even get your name... you're saved in my contacts as 'Lover'."

Michael shook his head fondly, looking out of the window. It had been a pretty eventful day after all.

**Author's Note:**

> It feels good to upload this one! I've been working on it for a while, since before I uploaded my last fic, so it's nice to see it finally done. I hope you like it, and as always thank you for reading!


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